Military  ©fder  of  %  Iso^al  tae^ion 


United  §fafes, 


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CDMMA]\[DE^y  OF  THE  DI^lCT  DF  C5DLU1V[BIA. 


« 


WAR    PAPERS. 


_ 

Keatonville :       \y!/qat    a      Rummer       kno 

PREPARED  BY  COMPANION 

Brevet  Major 

CHARLES    E.    BELKNAP, 

U.  S.  Volunteers, 

READ  AT  THE  STATED   MEETING  OF  JANUARY  4,    1893. 


*E 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2013 


http://archive.org/details/bentonvillewhatbOObelk 


kntanrilk :  What  a  i'ummcv  ^nattr^  gttwnt  it. 

March  18,   186^/ 


Commander  and  Companions  :  It  is  not  my  purpose  to 
write  the  strategic  details  of  a  battle.  So  far  as  I  know,  the 
battle  of  Bentonville  has  not  been  written  by  others  than  one 
who  commanded  a  corps  in  the  Confederate  Army.  I  intend 
to  give  you  my  recollections  of  the  battle,  which  to  Sherman's 
army  was  the  most  important  of  the  many  events  of  the 
campaign   in    the    Carolinas. 

Brigade,  division,  corps,  and  army  commanders  write  up, 
from  official  documents,  campaigns  and  battles  and  make  what 
may  be  termed  official  history.  Want  of  space  between  the 
covers  of  the  book  prevents  personal  mention  of  the  men  who 
fired  the  muskets.  But  the  men  who  fired  the  muskets 
and  swung  the  sabres  have  their  own  stories  to  tell.  The 
graduate  from  the  college,  the  farm,  shop,  and  lumber  camp 
fought  side  by  side  in  the  ranks,  each  a  student  of  war,  no 
two    seeing   with    the   same    eyes. 

I  give  you  the  recollections  of  a  captain,  pleading  guilty 
to  the  charge  of  being  a  Bummer,  and  explaining  how  I  became 
one. 

Sherman's  army  left  Atlanta  in  the  fall  of  1864,  with  but 
twelve  days'  rations  of  hard  bread,  coffee,  salt,  and  sugar  in  the 
trains.  This,  with  what  the  men  carried  in  their  haversacks, 
was  the  visible  supply.  Meat  in  all  its  various  form's,  fodder 
for  the  animals,  and  breadstuff's  to  piece  out  the  hard  tack 
must  be  gathered  from  the  country  through  which  we  passed. 
To  do  that  systematically  men  were  detailed  from  each  regi- 
ment, placed    under    command  of  a    commissioned  officer,  and 


sent  out  each  day  to  the  front  and  along  the  flanks.  The 
competition  of  so  many  different  details,  especially  in  a  coun- 
try where  peanuts  and  cotton  were  the  staple  farm  products, 
coupled  with  the  opposition  of  the  enemy's  cavalry  and  Georgia 
Home  Guards,  soon  forced  the  consolidation  of  the  foragers, 
as  they  were  then  called,  into  brigade  and  division  details, 
for  mutual  protection,  and  I  have  known  a  brigade  detail 
to    scatter   for   the    same    reason. 

I  found  myself  commanding  a  brigade  detail  consisting 
of  ninety  men  and  three  commissioned  officers,  mounted  upon 
the  best  stock  to  be  found  in  the  country.  Our  duties  consisted 
in  foraging  and  fighting  anything  and  everything  that  came  in 
our  way,  picking  up  rebel  stragglers  and  deserters,  hunting  out 
the  roads,  and  acting  as  scouts  and  guides.  Letters  from  the  few 
post-offices  in  the  country,  maps  hanging  on  the  walls  of  village 
and  country  homes,  newspapers  old  or  new,  all  were  taken  and 
sent  to  headquarters. 

The  term  "  Forager"  was  not  large  enough  to  designate  this 
new  addition  to  the  army,  and  the  word  "  Bummer"  was  born. 
I  know  some  people  at  this  distance  from  the  war  who  look 
upon  the  bummer  as  "  a  trick  of  sins."  The  term  has.  fallen 
into  disgrace.  To-day  the  walking  delegate  of  the  Saloon- 
Keepers'  Union  is  known  upon  the  streets  as  a  bummer.  One 
step  down  in  the  social  scale  and  we  have  tramp,  tramp,  tramp. 

Bummer  was  a  title  born  to  Sherman's  army  on  the  march  to 
the  sea.  In  the  scramble  for  corn  and  bacon  its  pedigree  was 
lost,  and  he  who  seeks  to  claim  it  now  is  liable  to  receive  a  bad 
title. 

However,  the  Bummer  in  his  degree  of  rank  commanded  all 
the  corn-cribs  and  fodder-stacks  in  Georgia  and  the  Carolinas. 
He  made  of  his  pi-ofession  high  art,  and  high  art  is  always 
morality. 

The  variety  of  work  and  duties  called  the   best   men  from  the 


ranks  -men  of  known  endurance  and  courage.  Strict  discipline 
was  maintained,  and  there  were  no  stragglers.  Men  were  not 
safe  out  of  sight  of  the  columns.  There  was  not  a  single  day 
during  the  month  of  March,  1S65,  that  my  detail  was  not 
fighting  or  skirmishing  with  some  part  of  the  enemy's  forces. 

Nearly  the  entire  distance  between  Savannah  and  Goldsboro 
the  cavalry  of  our  army  was  to  the  left  of  our  marching  infantry 
columns,  the  fronts  of  different  army  corps  being  covered  by 
the  mounted  Bummers.  They  often  knew  the  location  of  the 
different  Confederate  commands  better  than  their  own.  Many  a 
gallant  fight  was  made  for  hogs  and  hominy  that  was  never 
reported  at  headquarters. 

The  battle  of  Avery sboro  was  fought  on  the  16th  of  March,  a 
victory  for  our  men.  During  the  night  the  enemy  retreated. 
It  was  a  cold,  wet,  miserable  night,  the  rain  falling  in 
torrents.  The  country  was  acres  of  mud  and  ponds  of  water- 
The  enemy  had  a  few  wagons.  These  they  filled  with  their 
wounded  men  and  left  them  stalled  in  the  mh-e  along  the 
road.  Having  but  a  few  pieces  of  artillery,  they  outmarched 
us    and    were    soon    lost    in    the    forests    of    the    country. 

The  17th  and  iSth  were  fine  spring  days,  the  country 
very  poor  in  supplies  and  the  enemy  having  the  first  pick.  On  the 
1 8th  my  detail  fought  Dibbrell's  brigade  of  cavalry,  driving 
them  back  mile  after  mile,  keeping  the  road  clear  for 
the  division  that  was  following — "  Carlin's."  It  was  a  series  of 
running  fights  from  one  piece  of  woods  to  another.  There  were 
many  turpentine  stills,  and  they  were  invariably  fired,  send- 
ing up  dense  black  columns  of  smoke,  good  as  signal  flags 
to  indicate  our  course  and  location  to  those  who  followed. 
At  one  of  these  stills  we  found  four  dead  and  one  mortally 
wounded  man,  lying  where  they  fell,  their  comrades  leaving 
too    hurriedly    to    give    them    attention. 

Dibbrell's  brigade  at  this  time  was  very   badly  demoralized  ; 


not  more  than  six  hundred  strong,  poorly  supplied  with 
ammunition,  driven  all  the  way  from  Tennessee,  they  were 
but  mere  fragments  left  of  companies,  or  regiments,  while 
their  commander,  to  use  a  Georgia  saying,  "  cavorted  mag- 
nanimously." One-half  of  his  men  were  always  a  little  too 
fast,    and    the    other   half  a   little    too    slow. 

A    few    of    my    men    were    armed    with    Springfield    rifles, 
the   balance  with  Colt's  revolving  rifles  and    Spencer  carbines. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  I  halted  my  command  to  await  the 
advance  of  the  division.  It  not  coming  up,  we  fell  back  two 
miles,  going  into  camp  at  headquarters  of  the  division.  The 
stubborn  resistance  of  the  enemy  during  the  latter  part  of 
the  day  convinced  me  that  they  were  planning  a  repetition 
of  the  action  of  the  16th.  I  also,  gained  some  information 
from  citizens  and  the  wounded  man  captured  at  the  tur- 
pentine still.  I  reported  in  person  to  Gen.  Carlin,  who 
sent  the  information  to  Gen.  Sherman,  who  did  not  credit 
it.  My  command  had  made  and  drank  their  coffee — they 
had  little  else — and  were  rolled  in  their  blankets,  sleeping, 
when  I  returned,  after  midnight,  from  headquarters,  having 
received  the  countersign  for  the  next  five  days,  and  orders 
to  move  out  at  three  o'clock  next  morning  and  join  the 
division  next  night  at  Cox's  bridge,  twenty-five  miles  north. 
We  did  camp  there,  but  it  was  four  days  later.  Gen.  Carlin's 
last  words  to  me  were,  "If  you  cannot  drive  the  enemy, 
flank    them." 

At  three  o'clock  the  men  were  aroused,  horses  fed,  coffee 
made,  and  before  four  o'clock  the  command  filed  out  of  the 
woods  into  the  main  road,  the  men  tired,  sore,  cross,  and  ugly, 
but  every  one  in  his  place.  The  road  led  through  forests  of  pine 
with  but  little  cleared  land.  A  few  men  were  sent  out  as  an 
advance-guard.  When  about  two  miles  out,  and  just  as  it 
began  to  grow  light,  the  advance  surprised  a  sleeping  picket-post 


of  a  few  men  huddled  about  a  small  fire  at  the  side  of  the  i"oad, 
their  ragged  gray  blankets  wrapped  about  their  shoulders. 
They  dropped  everything  that  was  not  tied  to  them,  and  ran  into 
the  woods,  escaping  us  in  the  darkness.  Their  guns  were  bent 
out  of  shape,  and,  with  their  other  effects,  thrown  into  the  fire. 
Supposing  that  these  men  belonged  to  Dibbrell  and  that  we 
were  near  his  camp,  we  pushed  on,  hoping  to  surprise  them. 
The  road  ran  down  a  hill,  across  a  swamp  with  deep  water  and 
tangled  brush  on  each  side.  I  led  the  advance-guard,  and 
passing  out  of  the  swamp  found  the  picket-line  along  the  edge  of 
the  swamp.  It  then  had  become  quite  light.  The  pickets  on 
the  road  discharged  their  guns  as  they  started  on  the  run  for  the 
reserves.  My  men  fired  a  few  shots  at  these  pickets  as  we 
spurred  our  horses  forward  and  up  the  hill,  when,  to  our  surprise, 
we  came  in  full  sight  of  a  line  of  earthworks,  not  more  than  forty 
rods  away.  As  far  as  I  could  see  to  the  right  and  the  left  the 
dirt  from  thousands  of  shovels  was  flying  in  the  air.  The  alarm 
caused  by  the  picket-firing  had  created  confusion  in  the  enemy's 
camp — officers  shouting  to  their  men  to  fall  in  line,  and  the  men 
throwing  away  their  shovels  and  securing  their  guns.  Realizing 
at  once  that  we  were  unexpected  and  unwelcome  callers,  I 
retired  my  command  to  the  opposite  side  of  the  swamp,  dis- 
patching one  of  my  best  men  with  information  of  my  discovery 
at  once  to  Gen.  Carlin,  but  he  never  reached  his  destination. 
He  must  have  been  killed  by  a  bushwhacker,  for  he  is  still  one 
of  the  missing. 

Leaving  a  lieutenant  with  thirty  men  as  a  skirmish-line  at 
this  crossing  of  the  swamp,  I  moved  to  the  left  with  the  bal- 
ance, and  about  a  mile  from  there  found  a  small  corn-cracker 
grist  mill  with  a  good  supply  of  corn.  The  mill  was  in  charge 
of  a  young  woman,  who  dipped  the  corn  into  the  hopper  with 
a  gourd,  and  carried  away  the  meal  in  a  bag  to  her  home,  a  few 
rods  distant.     One  man  was  left  at  the  mill  to  keep  it  grinding, 


and  with  the  balance  we  crossed  the  dam,  that  also  served  as  a 
highway,  turned  to  the  right  a  half  mile  or  so,  and  again  struck 
the  rebel  picket  line,  and  had  the  good  fortune  to  capture  two 
of  them,  who  gave  us  the  information  that  Gen.  Joe  Johnson's 
army  was  all  there.  They  had  marched  all  night  to  get  into 
position,  and  there  were  ten  thousand  infantry  then  in  the  front 
line  building  breastworks. 

In  driving  this  picket  line  we  had  come  near  two  pieces  of 
light  artillery.  They  opened  fire  on  us,  throwing  shells  higher 
than  the  tops  of  the  pine  trees  through  which  we  passed.  This 
artillery  fire  was  the  first  alarm  to  Carlin's  division.  The  two 
prisoners  were  mounted  and  sent  under  guard  to  Carlin,  but 
became  lost  on  one  of  the  many  blind  roads  and  did  not  reach 
Carlin  until  he  had  come  up  with  his  division  and  attacked  the 
enemy. 

I  only  digress  to  say  that  Buell's  brigade,  from  which  my  com- 
mand was  recruited,  charged  the  works  when  I  first  discovered 
them  in  the  early  morning,  losing  a  full  one-third  of  their 
numbers,    many    of  the    men   falling   inside   the    earthworks. 

I  withdrew  my  command  from  this  advanced  position,  with- 
out loss,  to  the  grist  mill,  crossing  to  the  south  side  of  the 
stream  and  placing  my  men  behind  a  rail  fence  that  skirted  the 
stream  and  mill-pond.  The  animals  were  taken  into  a  dense 
swamp  to  our  left,  in  water  knee-deep.  Every  man  was  free 
to  become  a  fighter. 

The  disposition  of  men  and  animals  was  but  fairly  made, 
when  there  came  down  through  the  pines  on  the  opposite  side 
of  the  pond,  at  a  sharp  trot,  a  battalion  of  troopers  in  gray. 
They  were  led  along  the  edge  of  the  mill-pond  by  an  officer 
mounted  on  a  fine  gray  horse.  The  head  of  the  column  turned 
to  cross  to  our  side  of  the  pond,  when  the  order  to  fire  was 
given.  The  crash  of  fifty  rifles  from  the  men  in  ambuscade 
seemed   to    have    emptied    fifty    saddles,    as    if  every    man    had 


picked  his  game.  An  instant,  and  then  came  the  second  vol- 
ley, every  man  firing  at  will,  the  shots  falling  like  rain-drops 
on    the    roofs   of  our    canvas   tents    in    the    night. 

The  surprise  was  complete,  the  confusion  beyond  description. 
Horses  plunged  through  the  woods  in  flight,  men  and  horses 
mingled  stretched  upon  the  green  slope.  There  seemed  no 
escape  from  the  repeating-rifles.  The  gallant  commander  cling- 
ing to  his  saddle  with  the  last  moment  of  life,  the  frantic  animal 
sprang  from  the  road  into  the  pond,  and  both  disappeared  be- 
neath the  water.  His  disappearance  from  the  sight  of  man  was 
one  of  war's  mysteries.  It  seemed  but  a  moment,  when  all  was 
over — the  dead,  the  dying,  the  wounded  strewing  the  ground, 
the  few  escaping  into  the  friendly  woods  hurried  along  by  the 
cheers  of  the  victorious  Bummers.  It  was  war,  but  war  is 
an  unknown  quantity.  A  troop  of  cavalry,  proba'  ly  belong- 
ing to  the  same  command  just  defeated,  found  a  crossing 
through  the  swamp  to  our  right  and  rear.  Guided  by  the 
firing  and  the  cheers  of  our  men,  they  fell  upon  our 
flank,  the  first  warning  coming  in  the  shape  of  leaden  messen- 
gers. It  needed  but  a  glance  :  coming  straight  for  us  was  a 
long  line  of  "Johnnies,"  using  their  carbines  as  thev  came 
across  the  field.  Nobody  waited  for  orders.  The  best  time 
made  by  professional  sprinters  was  slow  compared  with  that 
made  by  the  Bummers  as  they  ran  for  the  swamp  to  the  left 
where  we  had  placed  our  horses.  It  was  every  man  for  him- 
self, and  the  "Johnnies"  for  the  hindmost.  The  swamp 
gave  shelter  and  safety  to  all  but  four  of  the  men,  they  could 
not  outrun  rebel  lead.  My  own  horse  was  picketed  at  the  edge 
of  the  swamp,  an  animal  I  had  ridden  many  hundreds  of  miles 
and  to  whom  I  was  warmly  attached.  I  thought  I  saw  a  chance 
to  save  him.  Mounting,  I  gave  him  the  spurs.  He  fairly  flew 
alo  g  the  edge  of  the  swamp  towards  our  main  lines.  I  used  my 
revolver    as  I  never  had  a  chance  to  use  it  before.     My  horse 


IO 

was  giving  his  life  to  save  mine.  I  could  feel  his  body 
quiver  as  the  deadly  bullets  struck  him.  The  noble  animal 
carried  me  safely  out  of  danger,  into  the  friendly  shelter  of 
a  regiment  going  into  position  to  protect  the  flank  of  the 
army ;  with  a  jet  of  hot  blood  spurting  from  a  wound  in 
his  .neck,  he  dropped  on  his  knees  and  fell  over  dead  before 
I  could  remove  saddle  and  bridle.  In  a  few  hours'  time  I 
had  changed  places  and  found  myself  with  nothing  of  my  com- 
mand except  personal  equipments.  With  the  saddle  on  my 
own  back  I  set  out,  mentally  offering  many  kingdoms  for  a 
horse. 

This  ended  the  Bummers'  fight  at  Bentonville,  but  those 
who  fought  and  got  away  did  heaps  of  duty  on  following 
days. 


